User blog comment:Bartholomew Billberry Bowstring/Tavern of the Rusted Claw/@comment-25220117-20110902215700/@comment-25220117-20110924155306

The searat nods "Naow wot wuz it y' wanted t' see me fer" Slank straightens himself up, after snorting contemptuously at Swisher "I came `ere t' warn ye o' a few blades bein' drawn, Sire...I got infermation f' om a friend, unfort'unately costing `im `is life t' secure th' knowledge, th' loss o' `un gudd weasel...Fizalra's plannin' t' git a blade through yer ribs. I'll make sure she don't git very far, though, Sire...Daon't yew worry" Derklade nods "Good...Swisher, ye'll be aidin' our gudd Cap'n. No gudd-fer-nuddin' moot'ny's goin' on while I'm around..." Slank gives a crooked salute, taking a step towards the door, but turns around, grinning "Yew comin' , Swisher?"